


The Promotion

by FuchsiaMae



Category: Portal (Video Game)
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Morning After, Morning Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 18:58:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16500923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuchsiaMae/pseuds/FuchsiaMae
Summary: Caroline contemplates the new bullet in her job description. PWP





	The Promotion

Caroline woke in a now-familiar bed, still sticky with sweat from the night before, spooned up against Cave Johnson’s naked body. She smelled like sex and him.

Afterglow made the world feel golden. She breathed in their mingled scent, and as she thought of how they mingled, a slow, contented smile spread across her lips. It was too tempting to close her eyes again. His heat radiated through her, warming down to her bones, luring her into dalliance just as he did when awake. She felt the weight of him, heavy with sleep, his legs tangled with hers, his strong arms holding her close. She felt him breathe.

It wasn’t the first time she’d awoken here, or the second, or the third—and she was confident now it wouldn’t be the last.

Carefully, she peeled his arms off her and slipped out of his embrace. He grumbled in his sleep. Moments like this lent him a peaceful sweetness he never found in waking. Sweet, yes, but the runaway-train energy with which he lived was anything but peaceful. Before seeing him like this, she never would’ve imagined that Cave Johnson could look serene. She found her eyes tracing the lines of his face, lingering on his soft mouth, thinking of his tongue—of herself on her back for his talented tongue—was anyone in the world this lucky, to have Cave Johnson’s talented tongue?

She felt heat rising in her belly and turned away. The son of a bitch could seduce her even in his sleep.

But no, no, they had places to be this morning besides bed. Executive meeting, department inspection, investors’ tour, the litany helped her out from under the covers. The floor felt cold on her bare feet. She wasn’t quite used to being naked in his home, but it felt wonderfully illicit, and her shiver was one of pleasure. Naked she padded past his mirror to the bathroom door, and naked she slipped inside, careful to shut it without a sound.

In private, her wobbly knees gave out, and she slumped against the doorframe. Her hips and thighs burned from the evening’s exertion. Splayed under him, legs spread wide, trembling—and deep inside her, a dull ache warning a bruise. No doubt a consequence of being used hard three nights in a row. She thought of the way his body bucked when he came inside her, and hoped he was in the mood to make it four.

Instead of touching herself, as she’d very much like to, she stood up again and crossed to the shower. She turned it on, gave it a moment to run warm, tucked her long hair into her shower cap, and stepped under the spray. For a minute, all she did was feel the water and breathe.

Naked in Cave Johnson’s home. Naked in Cave Johnson’s home, with Cave Johnson himself naked in bed in the next room. The man himself, the one and only—the Science Maverick of Upper Michigan, the front-page national headline, the founder of Aperture Science. She thought of his smile on the cover of _Forbes_ , and that same smile diving between her legs. That Cave Johnson.  Who apparently wanted nothing more than to rail his assistant into next week.

She couldn’t help grinning again. _Her_ Cave Johnson. She borrowed his soap.

Barely more than a month ago, she’d awoken in this same position to cold shame, filled with questions she never wanted to ask. Would he still respect her? Had he ever respected her? Did he hire her for her work, or for her body? Would he fire her if she failed to satisfy him? Maybe he’d fire her anyway, now that she was—used. Maybe he’d take her out with the trash when he woke up.

She’d been so proud never to stoop to this. Despite the fact, which she admitted now, that she’d wanted him from day one. She never let herself entertain those feelings—mostly because she was sure he’d never return them. Never for a moment did she consider anything else. Which was why, when he finally kissed her, she nearly fainted in surprise.

Everyone assumed it anyway, of course. She knew the office gossip. They figured it was just another bullet on the job description, like making his coffee and taking his calls. Of course she earned her position lying on her back. She’d taken comfort in knowing she was better than that.

Except now she wasn’t. Now it was true. What would she do now that it was true?

The answer turned out to be _enjoy it._

How could she be ashamed of this? He made her giddy. Maybe it wasn’t the most dignified—maybe she smiled too much, laughed too much, maybe her eyes brightened every time he went by—but it felt _good_.

Her worries, in comparison, seemed so trivial now. She felt no shame or fear, only warm satisfaction. Who cared if the peons knew he fucked her? They were her subordinates, all of them, up to the highest department head. She answered only to Cave Johnson. And he’d already given her permission to fire anyone who gave her trouble. Even if the power was only borrowed, it was heady stuff—walking the halls at his side almost felt like she owned the place herself. Let them know. Let them know, and let them show her the respect her power deserved.

True, she had no more pride in prudishness. Now her pride was in the groans on his lips and the tight anticipation of his body just before climax. Another skill, another increase in her worth to the company—and she took well-earned pride in all her skills.

Finished rinsing, she stepped out of the shower and toweled off before the wide bathroom mirror. Anyway, her fears about only wanting her for sex were silly and unfounded. She looked herself over dispassionately, her reflection bare and unforgiving, and only one word came to mind: plain. In the looks department, she was simply nothing special. There were dozens of prettier, more fuckable girls at Aperture—she’d noticed every one with slight, simmering jealousy. If that was all he wanted, he could ring up the secretarial pool and have his pick. But of all the company ink that Aperture had to offer, he chose her. Something else set her apart from the rest.

It might be convenience. They both worked late every night already. It only made sense to tack extracurriculars onto their usual timetable, instead of making time with someone else. Yes, that was probably it.

Certainly not that he cared about her, in anything but professional capacity. She held no illusions. The worst mistake she could make was to get carried away imagining he loved her. This was business. A part of the job. A _perk_ of the job, maybe, but nothing more. She wasn’t about to let it make her stupid. Anything he saw in her was strictly professional.

Of course, she had professional assets. She remembered his face once when he called her _efficient_ —his eyes on her, the way he’d lingered on the word. She must’ve been blind not to see it before.

Still idly smiling at the thought, she let her hair down and stepped out into the bedroom. He was still asleep, sprawled across the pillows, snoring gently. A morning erection tented the sheets. She was tempted to make use of it, but no, they had no time to waste. Though she doubted he’d object to her attention. She imagined waking him with her lips on his cock.

Well, he did need to wake up now. And wasn’t getting him to the office part of her job?

She heard his voice in her head, goading, “ _Why not?_ ”

Her smile turned wicked as she crawled back into bed. She pulled back the sheets to expose him, took his shaft in one hand, and wrapped her lips around his head.

He twitched and let out a light moan. She swept her tongue across his head—he twitched again, harder—and stroked him up and down. Her mouth followed her hand, up and down, and drew a longer moan out of him. His hips shifted to give her more.

She was more than happy to take it. With her hand pumping the base of his shaft, she bobbed up and down on his cock, swallowing him a little further each time. His hips rocked to match her steady rhythm. Up and down, up and down—she felt him hit the back of her throat, and on the next stroke she _pushed_ —

His eyes flew open, and he gasped like a drowning man as she took him to the hilt. “H-holy shit.” She swallowed, her throat working around his cock. “Holy sh-h-h-h—” Heedless of the tears that began to stream from her eyes, she pounded hard up and down on him, until he grabbed her head and began to fuck her face.

But she couldn’t keep it up for much longer without air. Pulling off him, she gulped a few breaths, and then met his eyes with a sloppy, self-satisfied smile.

“Jesus Christ, woman.”

“Good morning, sir.”

“Good fucking morning.” She wiped her nose and mouth on her arm. He didn’t seem to care. “You are _beautiful_.” He was certainly awake now. Task accomplished. She started to get up when he murmured, “Where d’you think you’re going?”

“To work?”

“Like hell.”

“We have to get up now.” She tried again to slide off the bed.

He grabbed her arm. “Says who?”

“We have a meeting in an hour.”

“Let ‘em wait.” He flashed a hungry grin, and she didn’t resist as he drew her close. “We’re not done here.”

The edge of command in his voice sent a shiver through her whole body. “Yes sir, Mr. Johnson.”

He mashed his mouth to hers, pulling her down on top of him, his cock pressed hard against her belly. Reaching down, she teased him against her slit, testing her wetness—no time for more foreplay, but deepthroating him left her slick and ready. Her heart pounded at the thought of him inside her. She rocked her hips forward, taking just an inch—rocked again, taking an inch more—and in a last-second burst of clarity, she scrambled off him and dove for the nightstand.

“Hey—”

“Hold on!” Ripping open the nightstand drawer, she dug through until her hand closed on a tin of condoms. She popped it open, rolled one on, and let out a gasp as she plunged onto him.

He groaned and bucked, driving his cock in deep, forcing air from her lungs as he filled her. She still wasn’t used to the toe-curling sensation. When she leaned back, he hit her sweet spot, sending a jolt of pleasure through her with every stroke. “Yes,” she breathed as she rode him, the word a bare whisper. “Yes, yes, yes…”

“What’s that?”

“Yes _sir_.” She came down hard on his cock. Overwhelmed by the sweet ache as he struck the bruise inside her, she let her head fall forward and reached down to touch herself.

“Good girl.” He seemed to enjoy that. That hungry grin was back. He gripped her hips, thrusting to match her motions, as he devoured her naked body with his eyes. She rubbed rough circles on her clit. “ _Good_ girl.”

A hot coil of need tightened in her belly. She rode him harder, fingers working herself, and as she hissed, “Fffuck me, Mr. Johnson,” he bucked hard and she came to a shuddering orgasm.  

But he wasn’t done. As aftershocks rocked her body, he grabbed her ass in both hands, tipping her forward on top of him as he took her in his arms. He bounced her on his cock, drawing whimpers from her lips as he hit deep with each thrust. Hands braced on his shoulders, hips open wide, she let her body unwind, and gave herself over to his pleasure. She let him fuck her. She loved it.

The tension building in his core told her he was close himself. She felt his breath on her ear, hot and heavy, felt his lips on her neck, felt his teeth graze her skin. He kissed and sucked and bit, muffling a moan, and she felt his grip tighten on her ass as he fucked her faster. “Yes sir,” she breathed again, a whisper in his ear. “Yes sir, please sir, please—” And with a deep grunt, she felt him buck and shudder as he came.

She held him until the last tremor left his body. Then she eased off, careful of the condom, and flicked it into the trash beside the bed. He was still panting—she thought again of a drowning man coming up for air. “Hot damn,” he said once he found his words. “That’s a way to wake up.” She started to get up again, and again he stopped her. “Hey hey hey, c’mere.”

“We’re late, sir.”

“Boss’s orders.”

He pulled her down on top of him, guiding her to pillow her head on his chest. He was drenched in sweat—and now she was too, shower be damned. But as she looked up into his eyes, she found she didn’t mind.

He smiled, happily exhausted. “Fucking you might be the best idea I’ve ever had.”

She doubted that—this was the man who dreamed up Aperture Science—but she didn’t mind it. Here in his arms, a close second felt pretty darn good.

He kissed her forehead, and then pulled her up to kiss her lips. She didn’t like to think about why he kissed her, since it poked a slight hole in her pragmatic hypothesis of their new sex life, but she could stop hypothesizing for the length of one kiss. She melted into him and kissed back.

But only for a moment. “We really have to get up now, sir.”

He groaned. “Alright, alright. Slave driver.”

“We have science to do.” Finally she was allowed to slide off the bed. She went to his closet, where she’d started keeping a change of clothes, and the corner of his dresser drawer where she tucked fresh underthings. She slipped into pantyhose and a bra—making him grumble from the bed—but as she pulled a fresh dress over her head, she noticed something in the mirror. “Shoot.” A fresh red-purple lovebite stood out on her throat.

Her boss grinned like a dog. “Oops.”

She fingered the mark, hoping but doubting that makeup would cover it. Just because she wasn’t ashamed of her—promotion—didn’t mean she wanted to advertise. She tried pulling at the collar of her dress, but it was too low. Her blouse from the day before wouldn’t work either. “Shoot,” she said again, but in her head she said, _Shit_.

Coming up behind her, he goosed her ass on the way to the closet. “Leave it. Let ‘em know you’re mine.”

“Sir.” She blushed to match the strawberry edges of the bite. No, as much as he might like it, that wouldn’t do. She scanned the dresser for anything to use, and spotted a red scrap of cloth peeking out of a top drawer. She snatched it up—a pocket square, just big enough that it might do. She looped the square around her neck, and her quick fingers knotted it at the dip of her collarbone, neatly obscuring the mark. “How’s this?”

“Clever.”

“And I’m still yours.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Now are you ready?”

He wasn’t. She helped him button his shirt, whipped a tie around his neck, and fetched his jacket. He shrugged it over his shoulders. “Now let’s make some science!”

“Yes sir,” she grinned, and followed him out the door.


End file.
